Chapter 37
We’re in Dallas’s kitchen. I’m sitting on a roomy, cushiony window seat in the sun, taking in the expansive views of Central Park, wearing nothing but a duvet wrapped around me.
I’m still flushed from the lingering endorphin rushes of the morning’s series of out-of-this-world orgasms. One thing about me and Dallas Wilder, we know how to get each other off, and with so much hunger and fire it seems like it might be one of those wild, rare things most people never find.
After, when my stomach growled, Dallas wrapped me up and carried me out here.
I check my phone and there are at least a dozen messages from Sadie.
I read the newest one. I’m shopping this afternoon then I’m going out with Saskia and her friends.
We’re hitting a couple of clubs tonight in the East Village.
There’s one with a Caribbean vibe she keeps raving about. Please come??? Miss you love you xx
Dallas is heating up a frying pan. He told me at one point that he gave all his staff some time off so we could be alone and uninterrupted. “I make the meanest grilled cheese in the world, hands down. No one can argue with that once they try one.”
I put my phone down. This is entertaining to watch.
I laugh because he looks so out of place—although with only a pair of gray sweatpants low on his hips (who knew the man even owned such an item, but I’m not complaining), and with his thick hair a gorgeous mess, he almost looks like a normal human being instead of an untouchable investment billionaire.
At least he would look like a normal human being if it weren’t for the outrageously perfect, sculpted muscles, the tribal-inspired ink that’s so beautifully done, covering most of his chest and arms, the tall, lean impressiveness of his body, the to-die-for face.
Don’t even get me started on the gigantic swell inside those sweatpants that I can never seem to get enough of.
There’s a bang as Dallas starts pulling more stuff from the massive double-doored fridge. “Shit.”
“Do you need help?” I giggle, and the sound of it is new to my own ears. I don’t ever remember giggling in my life. He just looks so … cute and hot in the kitchen. “Not that I’d be that much help, but I could try.”
“You don’t cook?”
I shake my head. “I grew up in a restaurant. I’ve never cooked. And no one, ever, has cooked a meal just for me.”
“Well, that’s a crying shame. And today’s your lucky day. Because your life is about to change.”
“I can hardly wait.”
“Ow.” He shakes out his hand and sucks on a finger.
“Are you okay?”
“It’s just part of my process.”
“Burning yourself is part of your process?”
“I can cook, I told you that. Just because I hardly ever do it doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”
“If you say so, Wilder. Wow, and multi-tasking. I’m impressed.”
He’s checking the phone he just plugged in since both our phones were dead and we both owe at least one person a reply text. In his case, the number is probably well into the double digits. Maybe even triple. The little apple glows, and as soon as the phone comes back to life it starts ringing.
Dallas answers it. “Hey, Todd. You’re on speaker.”
“I’m also on FaceTime, Einstein,” comes the reply. “An order from your brothers to make sure there’s proof of life.”
“Still alive, thank you for asking, and also in the prime of my goddamn life, just saying. My brothers know I’m not dead. I’ve texted them multiple times.”
“Last week,” Todd points out. “Two of them are going to be in town this weekend, by the way.”
“Yeah? Good. Todd, meet Amelie Thibodeaux. Todd’s my executive assistant.” Dallas hands me the phone. “Talk to him, please. I’m going to burn something important if I’m distracted.”
I take the phone, holding up the screen to see a good-looking blond man. As he gets a look at me, he gives me a friendly, impish grin. “He’s cooking?”
Todd sounds so shocked by this, another laugh escapes me. “He says he is, but I think it might be burning. It’s nice to meet you, Todd.”
“Now I get why he’s fallen off the map for three weeks.
” Has it really been three weeks? Of course the thought enters my head, like it so often does, even though we’ve stopped talking about it: my period has never run like clockwork, but at some point we’re going to need to …
check. Dallas and I have been having sex like we want it to happen.
And deep down I have to admit that … I do.
I love him. And I already love those babies so much, the thought of them not existing or never existing is worse than any other worry I have.
And there are plenty of those. The whole thing is crazy on a hundred levels.
Butterflies flutter through my stomach. “Nice to meet you too, Amelie. I can’t believe it’s taken him this long to introduce us.
This is the longest I haven’t spoken to him since I started working for him.
I’m just happy he’s finally found someone who can take his mind off work for a change.
His mood was atrocious and I’m pleased to report there’s already a huge improvement. ”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
A couple of times, in the late evening or early morning, when I’ve been half asleep, I’ve heard Dallas talking on the phone.
I thought he was talking to Todd, who he’s mentioned several times, or to his brothers.
The tiniest question pricks behind my thoughts at Todd’s comment.
If his brothers are demanding to confirm that Dallas is alive and well, and Dallas hasn’t talked to Todd this whole time, then who was he talking to?
Anyway, I’m sure he has a lot of balls in the air when it comes to work.
And if Todd is his executive assistant, then he must have other assistants too.
My trust-o-meter is broken, that’s all. That’s the only reason my instincts have raised a tiny red flag …
next to the other red flag, the one that’s waving its neon scarlet question at me: why are you acting like you’re trying to get knocked up by him if you don’t trust him?
I push both red flags emphatically out of my mind.
Something I seem to be very good at doing.
Because everything about him feels so damn good, he’s too addictive to refuse, that’s why.
“How are you liking New York so far, Amelie? It’s a big change from NOLA.”
“Dallas has been giving me the grand tour. It’s been amazing.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. And I hate to be the one to bring him back down to planet Earth, but I might have to steal Dallas for an hour or two today, if you can spare him.”
“Of course.”
“Dallas,” Todd continues, “I’ve averted at least sixty-seven crises per day with the Titus Group but they’re getting antsy. They want to meet with you this week. Which means today, since it’s Friday. They’re threatening to jump ship if you don’t show up again.”
Dallas serves two grilled cheese sandwiches onto two plates. “I’ll meet them downstairs in the seventh floor boardroom. Tell them four p.m.”
“Good,” Todd says, with obvious relief. “I’ll let them know. We’ll talk soon, Amelie. It was nice meeting you. See you at 3:30, Dallas, so I can brief you on the changes they’re proposing.”
“Yes, boss.”
Todd rolls his eyes, winks at me and ends the call.
Dallas picks up the two plates and heads out to the balcony.
“Let’s eat outside. It’s nice out.” If this could even be categorized as a balcony.
It’s the size of the entire interior of the apartment.
There are stone statues that would look at home in an ancient Roman villa’s courtyard, groomed topiary, a raised, covered outdoor kitchen area with stone columns and pulled-back, floor-length curtains, and a table that seats at least twelve.
There’s a hot tub and a sauna surrounded by tropical plants in their own large, tastefully-presented greenhouse.
The infinity pool is flanked by rows of lounge chairs as big as beds.
Beyond it, Central Park spreads out as a carpet of trees and dotted lakes, the buildings rising up on all sides of it like an idyllic version of a metropolis.
From this angle, the scene could be a wonderland.
Dallas sits on one of the spacious loungers and puts our plates on a small table. I dip my toe into the pool, which is heated, then sit next to him. It’s a beautiful day, warm for this time of year.
He hands me my plate and I take a bite of the grilled cheese. “Oh my god, this is so good,” I mumble mid-chew.
“Right? Told you.”
I’m so hungry I devour the whole thing. “That was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Thank you, Dallas Wilder.”
“You’re welcome, Amelie Thibodeaux.”
After we eat, Dallas pulls me close. I lean against his warm chest as his fingers trace a line down my bare shoulder, and we just sit there for a while. The contentedness of the moment frames itself into a snapshot I know I’ll always remember and treasure, no matter what happens.
Dallas kisses me gently. “Will you be okay here by yourself for a while? It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”
“Of course. Sadie’s been wanting to catch up anyway. And I want to hear about how her auditions have been going. I’ve hardly talked to her since we got here. She wants to make a plan to meet up.”
His tone shifts almost imperceptibly. “Why don’t you wait for me.” He says it like a statement, not a question. “We could meet up with her together.”
I guess it’s a reasonable enough request. “Sure. If you want. Or you could meet up with us wherever we are after you’re done with your meeting.”
I can actually see the change happen to the color of his eyes in real time. They darken, and his playfulness is suddenly gone. “Fuck the meeting.”
My head barely tilts. “Dallas. Go to the meeting. I’ll be fine. We can survive without each other for an hour. I mean, theoretically.” I’m making a joke, I think. “We haven’t tried doing it yet but I’m sure it won’t kill us.”